


But All I Got You Was...

by hurinhouse



Category: White Collar
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurinhouse/pseuds/hurinhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next step...</p>
            </blockquote>





	But All I Got You Was...

**Author's Note:**

> For the White Collar 100 prompt #109 - anniversary

The smooth stained finish is soft beneath his palm, the wood probably a century old. Red ribbon falls through his fingers as Peter opens the doors for him, pride filling the man's winded description of the sanding process he'd recently learned. Locked Backyard Shed mystery now solved.

Peter's spiel is over. He's waiting and nervously beaming. It's Neal's turn to talk, El's lips pressed together beside him, watching his face for signs, and he's never been out of words.

His throat catches as he starts Peter's name. When he fails again he finds himself slipping out the Burkes' master bedroom and taking the stairs two at a time, ending up on the front steps hoping for wheeled yellow freedom to putter down DeKalb Avenue. It takes less than a minute for the door to open behind him.

"Hey." El's palm against his back is warm. Soothing like Ellen's had been, thrilling like Kate's.

"Hey."

"Too much? I know it's only been a year, but we thought- "

"It's not… " He shakes his head. He's given countless gifts to innumerable people since becoming Caffrey. Usually part of the con. Receiving gifts though, for just Neal, has been rare. A suit, a picklock set, wine, tickets. Every single one had been temporary. Or portable. But today… 

"Are you sure? Is Peter?"

Neal's own tie, the only thing that had been hanging inside the heavy, new-to-Neal armoire, drapes loosely round Peter's shoulder. His lover scooches opposite El, the three of them squished on the step. He should feel claustrophobic.

"The last time I was this sure was when El claimed a drawer in my first apartment." The wine on Peter's breath is as familiar as Elizabeth's hand running along Neal's thigh. He leans into Peter, foot tucked between El's.

"Then it's not too much."


End file.
